in a string of lights
by faithsette
Summary: "It's a tradition, of sorts, one of the only ones she's kept up with since her mother died. She has a cup of steaming hot chocolate, complete with a handful of mini marshmallows, each year on Christmas Eve. It's not much, barely anything special at all, but it's the one small way she still feels connected to the holiday, and she plans to keep it up." Holiday meeting AU.


Braving this winter blizzard may be the worst decision she's ever made.

The wind whips around her, goes right through her coat and seeps into her skin, chills her bones. Flurries continues to fall, fat, wet snowflakes connecting with her bare neck, causing her shoulders to hike up to her ears in an attempt to block it. The white flakes contrast against the black fabric adorning her shoulders, and she can see them getting stuck in her hair.

The coffee shop is close, only a few hundred feet away now, and she can no longer feel her legs. They're numb beneath her, and if it weren't for the fact that she's still _moving_ and not lying on the pavement, she'd have thought they gave out, disappeared completely.

And all of this for hot chocolate.

It's a tradition, of sorts, one of the only ones she's kept up with since her mother died. She has a cup of steaming hot chocolate, complete with a handful of mini marshmallows, each year on Christmas Eve. It's not much, barely anything special at all, but it's the one small way she still feels connected to the holiday, and she plans to keep it up.

Which is exactly how she's ended up here, in the middle of the whiteout that's taken over the city. She realized too late that, in the haste of her officer duties and late night patrols, she forgot to actually pick up more hot chocolate. She still has a bag of marshmallows, but without the base they're essentially useless. For her purposes, anyway.

It was either going to the store to buy the ingredients, or trekking to the coffee shop to get it made for her, and because the store is a considerably farther walk, she's opted for the latter.

It seemed like a great idea at the time, an even better one when she was still warm and toasty inside her apartment. After about a block, she began to realize her mistake.

But she's almost there, continues to weave in and out of fellow brave souls, and forces herself to keep moving. If she stops even for a second, she's not entirely sure her legs would work again when she tried to start back up.

Pushing the door open, she shuffles inside, shakes out her hair and curles her arms into her chest, rubbing her hands together for warmth. Exhaling into her cupped palms, she hopes to thaw them out, bring some of the feeling into her frozen fingers.

The line isn't very long, thankfully, so she jumps into it, joining the rest of the people who have braved this weather for their beverages. As she waits for her turn, she takes a look around, admiring the decorations that have been put up since she's last come. Strings of white, red, and green lights line the walls, travel around the entire space and dangle from the corners. Holiday themed stickers and cut outs are placed against the windows, jolly Santa Clause and reindeer decorations looking out into the streets.

Everything is so festive.

"Miss?"

She looks up to find that she's next, and she steps forward, smiling an apology to the cashier. "I'll have a medium hot chocolate, please. Do you happen to have mini marshmallows?"

The guy behind the counter nods. "We do."

"Great, I'll have some in the hot chocolate."

He tells her the total and she goes into her bag for her wallet, only to realize that it's nowhere to be found. She pushes aside the rest of her belongings, as if the wallet could be hiding behind or underneath something—it can't, not with the lack of actual material things in her bag to begin with.

No, no, no.

She must have left it on the kitchen counter, forgotten to put it back into her bag before she left.

The guy is looking at her, a look of both pity and annoyance on his face, and she musters a small smile as she continues to look around. Maybe if she keeps searching, it'll magically appear in her hands.

Sighing, she gives into defeat.

"Sorry, I—"

"I got it," she hears, and before she knows what's happening there's someone coming up beside her, reaching around and handing the cashier a debit card. "And make it two, please? Thanks."

Twisting, she comes face to face with a pair of intoxicating blue eyes. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"Nonsense," he says, waving a dismissive hand. "It's Christmas Eve, everyone deserves some hot chocolate."

She looks at him, searching this man's face for any sign of false generosity, of an underlying motive, but all she finds is sincerity and soft eyes that continue to sparkle under the lights from above. She forces her gaze to move from the light stubble that's captured her attention.

"I... thank you," she says then, giving him a small smile.

He looks as if he's about to say something when their order is called, and he grabs them both with a 'thank you' tossed to the vendor. He turns, extending one of the hot chocolates to her, and she takes it with a nod in thanks.

"Do you... maybe want to have a seat?"

The offer surprises her, and her eyes flicker from this man to the world outside, where the snow continues to whirl around. She really doesn't want to head out just yet, not when her limbs are still chilled, and so she accepts, nods to a back corner.

He follows her, taking a seat after she's taken hers.

"Thank you, again," she speaks first, fingers wrapped around the cardboard surrounding the hot chocolate. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's nothing," he says, shaking his head. "It'd be a tragedy to let someone go without this chocolatey goodness."

She lets out a small chuckle. "Well, me and my chocolatey goodness are very appreciative..." She pauses. "You bought me my drink, but I don't know your name."

"Rick," he gets out, giving her a sheepish look, embarrassed that he hasn't introduced himself yet.

"Kate," she returns.

He smiles, and she watches his eyes crinkle around the corners. Wow, he's even more attractive when he does that.

"So, Kate, what are you doing out in this blizzard?" he asks, eyes turning to the winter wonderland beside them. "You live close?"

"Asking for my address already, Rick?"

His grin widens. "No, but if you're offering I'd gladly accept."

"Not offering," she tells him, rolling her eyes. "But I, uh, don't exactly live far."

"You walked in this?"

She shrugs. "Wasn't that bad."

"The icicles that used to be your fingers seem to disagree," he quips, nodding down to where the grip on her hot chocolate hasn't let up, fingers frozen to the cup.

In response, she wiggles the extremities in question, lets them tap against the side of the cup.

"So, what about you, why are you out here in this weather?"

"Ahh, kicked out." Her brows arch. "My daughter has enlisted the help of my mother in some kind of surprise," he explains. "I've been exiled until further notice."

She hums around the rim of her hot chocolate. "Daughter, huh?"

"Alexis," he nods. "She's seven, and quite possibly more mature than I am."

"She sounds adorable."

"She is," he says, and she watches his face light up at the mention of his daughter, the way he beams. "You have kids?"

Letting out a laugh, she shakes her head. "Oh, no. No kids."

"Husband?"

"Subtle."

"Didn't answer," he teases, and she wants to wipe the smirk off of his face. Maybe with her mouth.

"Nope," she says, popping the p. "Just uh, just me."

Shrugging, he meets her gaze. "Seems like 'just you' is pretty great."

Oh.

A light pink rushes right to her cheeks, and she has to restrain herself, stop her hands from coming up and patting at the blush.

There's a silence then while they continue to sip at their hot chocolates. Her marshmallows have since disintegrated, leaving behind nothing but the hot chocolate itself, and she brings the cup to her mouth. Her eyes fall closed, the corners of her lips tugging up as she sighs around the rim.

When she opens her eyes again, he's staring at her, his face soft and eyes bright.

It makes her uncharacteristically self-conscious, this gaze.

Bracing her elbow on the table, a hand comes up, the backs of her fingers kissing her mouth. "What?" she murmurs.

He shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, but the grin doesn't fade. "You're just—it's adorable."

"It's—what?"

His hands make a gesture towards her. "The way you... your face when you—it was cute," he manages, coughing a little.

She chuckles, shaking her head as she composes herself. The fact that he's stumbling over his words is adorable, she thinks.

"Well, thanks," she says quietly, looking at him through the curtain of her lashes. "Looks like it's letting up some."

He follows her line of sight, turning to the glass windows beside them. "It's supposed to get worse tonight," he comments, causing her to look at him. "Said we're looking at up to eight inches."

That'll make her job even harder, but she loves the snow, so it's always such a toss up.

"Looks like we should make the most of it then," she decides, surprising even herself.

There's something about this guy, about Rick, that has her wanting to learn more.

"Are you suggesting we go out there, Kate?" he asks, raising a brow.

"Well, you _are_ kicked out of your apartment until further notice," she drags out, cocking her head to the side. "It'd be a shame to leave you on your own in the blizzard. And you did kind of buy me my hot chocolate, so let's consider this my repayment. Even?"

His mouth splits into a wide grin. "Definitely even," he echoes, already standing from his seat, a hand outstretched. She takes it, letting him pull her from her chair until she's standing next to him. "So, do I get a last name before I go out into a blizzard with you?"

She laughs, a hand on her chin as she hums. "Beckett," she decides.

"Kate Beckett," he tries out the name. "I like it. Strong, suits you."

When he pushes in their chairs and starts towards the door, she tugs him back by the wrist. "Uh uh, not so fast. I gave you a last name, your turn now."

Something in his face changes, drops a little, and she can see the hesitation gloss over his features. Huh.

It's gone as soon as it came, though she can still sense it, and he's back to smiling, grabbing her hand to lead her out the door.

"Castle," he says, opening the door for her, waiting as she puts her hat back on.

Rick Castle.

Why does that sound so—

Oh. Her mother, his books.

She thought he looked familiar, but just assumed she'd seen him on the streets before.

He's not looking at her, but she's pretty sure he's... nervous? That doesn't go with the playboy image he's so predominately displayed as having on page six. But then again, neither does buying her hot chocolate and sitting with her for close to forty five minutes, just having casual conversations.

"You ready?" she says in reply, and she doesn't miss the sparkle in his eyes, the apparent appreciation for not dwelling on his name, when he turns back.

"Ready."

The snow continues to fall around them, flakes sticking to the ends of her hair and the top of his head, but it's slowed down considerably since her walk over. By New York standards, the streets are empty. Traffic is sparse, cars travelling slowly through the slush and ice, and the number of pedestrians on the sidewalks is nowhere near what it usually is.

The sun has set above them, leaving just the glow from the city lights around them to guide the way. She takes this time to let everything soak in, catches Rick doing the same thing in her peripheral vision, and a smile blossoms on her face. Everything's done up, giant snowflake lights hanging from poles on the streets, holiday themed flags and decorations strewn on every corner.

It's beautiful when it's like this, quiet, illuminated.

"It's stunning," he says, and she tears her gaze away from the lights to look at him.

"It is," she agrees, curling her arms into her chest. "New York is at its best when it snows, I think. The lights are always on, but there's something about the addition of the holiday themed ones, the brightness of it all in the wake of a quiet street, that makes it beautiful."

She blinks, breathing in the smell of the snow, and finds him staring down at her.

Again with those eyes.

"Let me take you somewhere," he says, gently tugging on her sleeve, smiling when she doesn't resist.

"Where?"

He shakes his head. "Surprise, Kate."

"You have no plans to murder and dismember me, right? 'Cause killing a cop gets a pretty hefty sentence these days."

She feels his grip tighten on her wrist, and he stops in his footsteps. "You're a _cop?_ " he all but squeaks, glee written all over his face.

Her tongue peeks out between her teeth as she tries to suppress a grin. "Mhmm."

"That is _so_ cool," he exclaims, his face turning serious as he puts his free hand up in the air. "No murdering or dismembering planned, Officer Beckett."

Chuckling, she shakes her head. "Glad to hear it."

They start moving again, and she begins to wonder just where it is that she's being taken. They walk through Lower Manhattan, and she thinks they're heading towards Midtown, but they turn in the opposite direction. She's fairly certain they've just gone in a circle, _positive_ they've gone in a circle when they pass Washington Square Park again.

"Do you actually know where we're going?" she asks lightly, twisting towards him with an arched brow.

"Of course I do."

"Really, because we've definitely already been here."

"It's gorgeous out, Kate," he says, motioning to the display of pristine white that cascades down in front of them. "We're just taking a detour."

She realizes he's taking her around the best lit areas of the city, and her heart jumps. With the sun set, everything's magnified, the lights and the holiday cheer, and it is really nice to get a feel for it now, without being on patrol or out with the other officers. It's just her and the snow.

And Rick.

She likes it.

"Do continue, then," she says, teeth chattering a little against the cold.

He wraps a tentative arm around her shoulder then, pulling her into his side. When she looks up at him in question, he just shrugs, but doesn't loosen his grip. She should step away, put some space back between her and this man she's known for only a few hours, but she doesn't. She doesn't settle in closer, either, but she stays where she is.

It's warmer here.

Their stroll ends in a park, empty except for them, everything covered in a blanket of white. It's pure, untouched, and she almost doesn't want to step into it, ruin it. But he's tugging her into the entrance and she follows, staying close.

"I take Alexis here sometimes," he says. "It's smaller, not one of the more popular parks, but it's nice."

He's right, it isn't as big as some of the others. Only a small swing set to their right, snow-covered grass surrounding everything else.

Guiding her around the small path, they travel along the gravel, now with a thin layer of ice covering it, and talk about themselves. Rick tells her about Alexis, his mother, and what he thinks they're doing to his loft right now. It involves a lot of tinsel and garland, she's told. In turn, she tells him about her job, what she usually does during her rounds. She doesn't go into her family, or Christmas. No, that's still too personal. But he doesn't seem to mind the difference in stories, seems genuinely interested to hear about her work.

Eventually, when the air becomes too bitter to continue walking, they make their way to the swings.

"I haven't been on one of these in years," she admits, brushing off the snow from the seat, trying her best to dry the surface.

Rick laughs. "I can't say the same," he adds, clearing the snow from his own swing.

She takes a seat, dragging her feet along the ground beneath her, creating two lines in the snow. When Rick doesn't say anything else, she assumes he's working on his own swing, trying to de-snow it, but then she feels a presence at her back.

There are hands on the chains of her swing, and she swivels around.

"Hold on."

"Hold... Rick, what—" She doesn't get the question out before he's pulling her backwards by the chains, holding her up for a few seconds before pushing her forward. He continues pushing her higher and higher, and she can't help the childlike laughter that bubbles out of her as she grips the chains.

"Rick," she breathes when he finally slows her down, pulling her back to a stationary position. "Oh my god."

"Fun?" he asks, a smile on his face.

All she can do is nod, and then he's laughing, giving her one last push before moving to his own swing and taking a seat.

They swing for a while, the only sounds their own laughter as they try to see who can go the highest. The snow collides with their bare faces each time they go up, but she barely feels it, pretty sure her skin is numb now anyway. Kate wins one round, Rick the next, and they call it a draw on the third, both laughing too hard to really figure out who's gone higher on the last push.

Once they're settled, back to just sitting on the swings, legs dangling below them, they fall into another silence.

"Can I ask you something?" she asks quietly.

He looks at her, nods. "Go ahead."

"Why'd you hesitate before telling me your last name?"

Taking a deep breath, he slows his swinging, keeping his attention straight ahead. "You treated me like just another guy," he says a few seconds later. "It was like you had no idea who I was, and I liked that. I didn't want that to change, didn't want you to look at me differently once you realized who I was."

"I wouldn't have," she tells him, watching his attention turn to her. She gives him a smile. "I knew you looked familiar, but I couldn't place it until you mentioned it. But that didn't change anything, you know."

"No?"

"Nope. I'll probably kill you if you tell anyone this, and I wouldn't want your reputation to be trashed or anything," she starts, laughing at his chuckle, "but you're not the jackass the papers make you out to be."

The look he gives her at that is one of surprise, awe, and just... soft. "Thank you," he says, and oh, his voice is way too serious right now. "That means a lot."

"The crack in the facade is becoming," she teases, gets a smile out of him.

He lets out a breath. "It's nice to just come out and do this, be real with someone."

It's getting later and later, and neither realize just how long they've been out here until his phone goes off.

"My mother," he explains, letting out a laugh as he reads the text. "They fell asleep after decorating. I'm allowed back now."

There's a strange pang of sadness that hits her. Ridiculous.

"You should get going then," she says.

He hums. "Yeah," he agrees, pausing. "In a few minutes."

She pushes off the ground, lets herself swing sideways until she bumps her swing into his. Her lips tug up into a smile, and he grabs at the chains of her swing when she gets closer this time, holding her next to him. His eyes bore into hers, these Christmas lights adding a new sparkle to them, and her gaze flicks down to his lips.

"Would you find thirteen different ways to kill me if I kissed you right now?"

Blinking, she lifts her eyes to his. "Why don't you try it and find out?"

Her heart beats against the cage of her ribs, her breath caught in her throat, but all she can focus on is the way he's leaning down, eyes never leaving hers until he presses a soft kiss to her lips. It's barely there, the smallest brushes of his lips against hers, but it has her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth when he pulls away.

"Merry Christmas, Kate."


End file.
